Chapter 2 - The old train station had been abandoned for nearly twenty years.The city had planned to demolish it twice.
Both times, the project had stalled.
The building remained at the edge of the industrial district, surrounded by rusted fencing, dead weeds, and broken concrete.
Lorenzo arrived after midnight.
Mason parked two blocks away.
The rest of the security team spread out in silence.
No headlights.
No sirens.
No unnecessary radio chatter.
Lorenzo walked beneath the rain.
He had seen the station countless times.
Before Isabella died, they had occasionally passed it while driving through the district.
She had always hated the place.
“Too many blind corners,” she once said.
Lorenzo had laughed.
“You sound like Mason.”
“I learned from the best.”
Now he pushed open the rusted gate.
The hinges screamed.
Mason touched his earpiece.
“Movement clear.”
Lorenzo looked toward the platform.
“Search everything.”
Two guards disappeared into the station.
Three minutes later, one called back.
“Sir.”
Lorenzo turned.
“Come here.”
A guard was crouching beside an overturned trash bin.
He held up a piece of fabric.
Dark wool.
Lorenzo took it.
He knew the texture.
He knew the faint scent.
Isabella's coat.
His fingers tightened.
“When was this found?”
“Looks fresh.”
Lorenzo stared into the darkness.
Mason approached.
“There are footprints.”
“Human?”
“And dog.”
Lorenzo followed them.
The tracks led behind the station.
Exactly where Emma had said.
Behind the building was a narrow passage covered by vines.
Mason pushed them aside.
A hidden space opened beneath an old concrete stairwell.
Inside were blankets.
Food containers.
Water bottles.
Medical supplies.
Someone had been living there.
Recently.
Lorenzo knelt.
He touched one of the blankets.
Still warm.
His pulse jumped.
“She was here.”
Mason looked around.
“Recently.”
Lorenzo spotted something half buried beneath the blanket.
A brass clasp.
He recognized it immediately.
One of Isabella's coat buttons.
Then came a sound.
A soft scrape.
Everyone reached for their weapons.
Mason raised one hand.
The guards spread out.
Another scrape.
Then breathing.
Lorenzo looked beneath the stairs.
Two pale eyes stared back.
A black shape moved.
Bruno.
The dog stepped into the light.
His coat was thinner.
His ribs were visible.
But he was alive.
Lorenzo's throat tightened.
“Bruno.”
The dog stared at him.
Then growled.
Not aggressively.
Fearfully.
Lorenzo slowly lowered himself to one knee.
“Easy.”
Bruno backed away.
Mason whispered, “Don't move.”
Lorenzo extended his hand.
“It's me.”
The dog's ears shifted.
Then Bruno stepped closer.
He sniffed Lorenzo's hand.
And suddenly the enormous dog pressed his head against Lorenzo's chest.
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
For two months he had buried his wife.
And now her dog was standing in front of him.
Which meant one thing.
Isabella had been alive after the crash.
Someone had hidden her.
Someone had helped her.
And someone had been following her.
Lorenzo noticed the collar.
The metal ring was bent almost double.
Emma had been telling the truth.
He touched it.
“Where is she?”
Bruno pulled away.
He turned toward the darkness behind the station.
Then ran.
Lorenzo followed.
Mason shouted, “Sir!”
But Lorenzo was already moving.
Bruno disappeared through a hole in the fence.
Lorenzo climbed through after him.
The dog ran toward an abandoned warehouse.
Halfway there, he stopped.
He looked back.
Then barked once.
Lorenzo entered the warehouse.
Nothing.
Only broken pallets and old machinery.
He looked around.
“Bruno?”
The dog sniffed the floor.
Then scratched at a metal panel.
Mason approached.
“Move.”
He pried it open.
Behind it was a narrow cavity.
Inside were blood-stained gauze pads.
A cracked syringe.
A woman's shoe.
Lorenzo picked it up.
Isabella had worn that style often.
Mason found a small camera hidden inside a utility box.
“Sir.”
The camera had been pointed directly at the warehouse.
Lorenzo took it.
“Can we access the recordings?”
“Maybe.”
Hours later, in the security room at the DeLuca estate, the footage played.
Seven days.
Night after night.
Empty warehouse.
Rain.
Cars.
Then Thursday.
3:17 p.m.
A woman entered the frame.
Dark coat.
Short hair.
Thin face.
Bruno beside her.
Lorenzo's heart stopped.
She turned slightly.
Green eyes.
A small scar near her temple.
Isabella.
Lorenzo stood so quickly his chair fell backward.
“Stop.”
Mason froze the screen.
Lorenzo approached the monitor.
He touched the image with trembling fingers.
“My God.”
Mason stared.
“It could be her.”
“It is.”
Detective Rachel Ortiz entered the room.
She had spent months working cases connected to the DeLuca organization.
She had never seen Lorenzo react to evidence this way.
“What did you find?”
Lorenzo pointed.
“My wife.”
Rachel studied the frame.
“Does she have any distinguishing marks?”
“Scar near the temple.”
“Anything else?”
“She holds her left shoulder differently when she's injured.”
Rachel zoomed in.
Isabella was doing exactly that.
Rachel went silent.
Then the footage continued.
A black SUV entered the frame.
Isabella saw it.
She grabbed Bruno.
She ran.
Then the camera signal went black.
Rachel's expression changed.
“She knew she was being watched.”
Lorenzo nodded.
“Who was in the SUV?”
“We'll find out.”
Rachel took the footage.
Then another frame caught her attention.
“Wait.”
She zoomed in.
A man had stepped out of the SUV.
Only his silhouette was visible.
But the ring on his right hand was clear.
Rachel stared.
“That ring.”
Lorenzo looked closer.
Gold.
Black stone.
Three sharp lines etched across the center.
His stomach dropped.
He knew exactly who wore it.
Vincent Moreau.
His closest friend.
His chief operating officer.
The man who had stood beside him at Isabella's funeral.
The man who had held Lorenzo's shoulder when the coffin was lowered.
The man who had whispered:
“I'll help you survive this.”
Lorenzo stared at the frozen image.
“There's no way.”
Rachel's voice was quiet.
“Then prove it.”
She turned toward the door.
But before she reached it, her phone rang.
She answered.
Her face changed.
“Detective?”
Rachel listened.
Then looked at Lorenzo.
“Someone just called from the cemetery.”
“What happened?”
“They opened Isabella's grave.”
Lorenzo's blood ran cold.
“What did they find?”
May you like
Rachel's voice dropped.
“Her coffin is empty.”
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